“DOM HEMINGWAY” My rating: B- (Opening April 18 at the Glenwood Arts, AMC Studio 30, and Cinemark Palace)
93 minutes | MPAA rating: R
Every now and then an actor needs to get outside his comfort zone.
In “Dom Hemingway,” Jude Law leaves his usual suave screen persona wimpering in the dust.
That it’s going to be a bumpy ride is evident from the first shot of the film, a long take of Dom’s face and naked shoulders as he screams about the power of his penis.
It’s a mighty organ, to hear Dom tell it, capable of upending empires and slaying women who merely get a glimpse of it, and his spittle-spewing rant goes on for two, three, maybe even four minutes of uninterrupted profane poetry.
Oh, did I mention that Dom’s in prison and being pleasured by a young inmate while he lets rip with his phallic analysis?
Dom has spent the last 12 years in a British prison for refusing to give up the crime boss for whom he worked. Now he’s getting out, and he fully expects to be repaid for his time behind bars.
He’s met at the prison gates by his old pal Dickie (Richard Grant, marvelously greasy), who over the years has lost one hand on a job and now wears an inflexible prosthetic in a black leather glove.
Dom has two things immediately on his mind. First, sex. Dickie has provided a couple of eager birds for just that purpose. Second, he beats the living crap out of the nondescript guy who married Dom’s ex-wife (she has since died of cancer) and raised Dom’s daughter (Evelyn).